


i like you (so much better when you're naked)

by Diaphenia



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Fat Sex, Humor, Light Bondage, Power Dynamics, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4577337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaphenia/pseuds/Diaphenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why would I want to stay in some shithole like Hollywood when I could be right here, in the great state of Georgia, at a dumb college bar, looking at you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	i like you (so much better when you're naked)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thinlizzy2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinlizzy2/gifts).



> thinlizzy2 wanted something with Bumper and Amy sneaking around, with optional power dynamics. 
> 
> This is set the summer after the first movie.
> 
> With love to my beta lulabo, who is fabulous.

“Bumper,” she said, somehow not surprised to see him at the Grin and Tonic.

“That’s right,” he said, that impossibly cocky smile on his face. “I’m back, baby.”

“Guess that means John Mayer realized how terrible you are at harmonizing.”

“I’m the best at harmonizing, and you know it.” He looked her right in the eyes, then started singing along with the late 90s boy band playing over the crap sound system, waiting for her to catch up.

He _knew_ her weakness for the oldies, damn him. She met him, then went up an octave. They sounded great together, mostly due to her.

By the time the song was done, his eyes were shining. “I thought you still had it in you,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Among my many, many talents, you’re looking at one of the ICCA champions,” she said, sticking out her chin.

“Been there, done that,” Bumper said. “Got the t-shirt, which I wear to bed regularly. But seriously, I heard. Who knew you girls could actually succeed?”

“Nice of you to send your congratulations,” she said, not the least bit bitter. “I suppose you were too busy failing at life to send a text.”

“Fail? Maybe I left. Why would I want to stay in some shithole like Hollywood when I could be right here, in the great state of Georgia, at a dumb college bar, looking at you?” He poked a finger dangerously close to her left tit, and she thought about ripping the finger off him and shoving it in an orifice of some sort.

“I’m Jonathan,” her date said, sticking a hand out to Bumper. Jonathan was studying poli-sci in an effort to become America’s youngest diplomat to one of the _stan_ countries. Jonathan called his grandma every weekend. Jonathan couldn’t sing a note.

She had a little bit forgotten about Jonathan.

Bumper shook his hand, his shoulders relaxing. The two of them made a little small talk, and Jonathan persuaded them both to sit at a table, have another drink, and stop glaring so much.

And Jonathan stepped out to make a call, Bumper looked over at her. “You want to get out of here?”

“With you? I’m on a date,” she scoffed.

“You’re literally putting on your jacket.”

She pulled out two twenties, thought better of it and pocketed one of them. “I know, let’s get out of here.”

He followed her to the women’s bathroom, where there was a window that she knew from experience she could get through.

“It’s really nice in here,” Bumper said, looking around. “You have a couch. And soap.”

“Yeah, it’s a palace. Now get over here and give me a hand—”

He weaved his fingers together and leaned forward, giving her a place to stand. She couldn’t quite get her leg up that high, so she shoved her left knee on his hand, swinging her other leg up, tangling it in his arm in the process. She felt herself falling backwards, so she grabbed at his head blindly, anchoring him into her cleavage. He stumbled forwards, towards the open window, and she swung a leg around his back just as he pushed her up, towards the window.

***

Bumper had given up his spot in the Treble house, and was renting a few blocks off campus.

“Let me give you the grand tour. This is the kitchen,” he said, pointing at a microwave. “This is my living room-slash-bedroom.” He reached up, pulled on a strap, and a bed fell down out of the wall. “It’s a real space-saving innovation.”

“That’s classy as shit,” she said, pulling off her shoes. He shed his shoes and his pants in rapid succession, and she pulled his t-shirt off, revealing his pasty white chest.

“You missed this,” he said, running his fingers over his chest. “I bet you were dreaming about me.”

“Not like you were dreaming of me,” she said, shaking her hair out of her ponytail. “All dirty dreams, not sure how you haven’t worn a hole in your mattress.”

“Please, you’re like kryptonite for my Superdick.”

“Have that line ever worked on an actual woman? Not just your left hand, I mean, and not your left hand and your voice going all high like, ‘oh Bumper, your cock is so adequate.’”

She could have sworn his dick grew harder at that.

“I assume you named all your vibrators after me. ‘Oh, broke _another_ Bumper, time to pull out Bumper Number Four, with extra twirling action.”

“All my vibes are named after people on _Cheez TV_.” Jade was her favorite, of course.

“Didn’t they have normal TV _down under_?”

“The only _down under_ you need to worry about,” she said, and she pulled him in for a kiss, hot and wet. “Is in my pants.”

“That’s not going to work on me,” he said, pliant in her arms as it completely worked on him. “Listen, about that burrito—”

She stiffened. “Don’t fucking talk to me about the burrito.”

“It wasn’t cool—”

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t.”

She shoved him onto the bed.

***

She had him trussed up like a Christmas turkey, wearing the handcuffs she lifted from an actual cop a few years back. He had almost nothing in his apartment, living out of two duffel bags, but he still had the cuffs. She’d been almost absurdly pleased when he’d pulled them out.

“I think you should, like, make me eat you out next,” he said, tilting his head. “Like if you just slide your thighs—”

“Stop topping from the bottom,” she snapped. That was a great idea, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Can you at least take off the shirt?”

She reached down, tugging on the edges. Then she let go, and pulled up her arms, shirt firmly in place.

He was momentarily confused, then looked so disappointed she almost felt bad for him. It was a real turn on, to see him looking so sad. She almost pitied him.

Almost.

She flipped him over so he was on his back, then grabbed ahold of his cock. The semi got hard now once it got some attention. “Listen, you want me to take off my clothes, you gotta deserve it.”

“I want that!” he said. “Release the tits.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she said. She slapped him in the thigh, satisfied with the stinging sound it made. She grabbed a condom from her jacket pocket, leaving it on his chest so he would know it was there.

“I want to hear you beg,” she said. straddling his legs, still wearing her jeans.

“Actually— you’re pinching— just a little to the left.” He shook his head. “I mean, of course I’m gonna beg. I’ve been thinking about this—”

“How often?” she asked, taking his life, or something even more valuable, into her hands.

“Every fucking night,” he whispered.

She took off her jacket, trying to throw it off the bed, but the apartment was so small it landed right back on it.

“While you were in LA, sucking off John Mayer, did you think of me?”

“It’s the only thing that got me through the blowjobs,” he said. “That guy’s such a douche.”

She laughed. She rolled off him, stripping off her pants.

“Did you fuck anyone else in LA?”

“No,” he said. “Not for lack of trying.”

 

She flinched. Not that she hadn’t slept with a ton of dudes since he took off, but that’s different. She’s got a reputation to uphold. Still, her chest heaved with the warm bloom of jealousy.

“But everyone there is really hot. It’s a little spooky. And obviously, you and I are the two hottest people in the south—”

“For sure”

“But we’re human garbage compared to that army of tan people with perfect teeth. It was unnerving.”

She pictured him in LA, trying to hit on video vixens and toothpaste commercial chicks and getting turned down at every chance. She felt for him. At least rejection was character-building.

She rolled on the condom. She pulled out the tube of lube she’d stashed in her bra. She took off her panties, dangling them over his face before throwing them across the room.

He stretched his hands over his head, and she placed her own hand on the cold metal in between, before lowering herself on him.

“This is disappointing,” she said, stifling a moan. It was seriously hot, watching him squirm.

“I’ve had better,” he said, his voice strangling.

She let go of the cuffs and his hands flew to her breasts, the first time she’d let him touch them in ages. She forgotten how good he was at this, even without full range of hand motion. He leaned up, trying to touch as much of her as possible.

She moved against him, steadily at first, getting faster and sloppier as he devoured her neck. He teased her nipples, alternating between feather-light touches and rude pinches, and she was there on the cusp, ready to fucking _fly_ , and then—

“I just, I can’t not— You’re so good at— I am so fucking sorry I ever threw—” He panted into her ear.

She felt her eyes welling up with tears, still feeling the burrito dropping down her chest, the disappointment of knowing their star-crossed aca-romance (or whatever it was) was over still burning in her throat. “Shit!” she yelled. “Shit, I was right there, and now I’ve lost it!”

She tried half-heartedly to get it back, but her clit was done.

He laid his handcuffed hands over his eyes as she rolled off of him, collapsing on the pillow next to him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, staring up at the light.

“I have Catholic levels of guilt on this topic,” he answered, pulling the condom off.

“Couldn’t you have done your penance on your own time? The very last thing I want to think about is the—” She sat up, gropping her t shirt. “Any of that.”

“I need to know you don’t hate me.” He was grabbing for his pillow, trying to have some serious talk with an exposed and shrinking dick. She threw one on his lap, and he rested the cuffs on top. “I fucked up.”

“You did,” she said evenly.

“But— remember the library?”

She knew exactly what he’d been talking about. It was the only time she’d set foot in the library all year, to meet him in the stacks. It was midday, so the chance they’d get caught by some internet-hating hipster was high. They’d been quick but not nearly quiet enough, knocking half a dozen thick brown books off the shelf. But they’d laughed about it, talking about desecrating a study room next. He’d grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the room, giggling—

And she’d seen Beca at a bay of tables, flipping through some textbook, chewing the shit out of a pencil.

She’d dropped Bumper’s hand nonetheless. And he’d looked at her like she’d kicked a puppy, mumbling something about going to class before taking off.

The next time she’d seen him, she’d been covered in airborne Mexican food.

She cringed. “Aubrey would’ve kicked me out.”

“You’re telling me Beca would’ve turned you in to that uptight princess for Trebleboning?”

She looked away.

He stuck out his hands to shake. “You want to start over?”

***

Forty minutes later, and they were back in the Grin and Tonic, now swarming with drunk college kids and townies alike.

They were in the women’s bathroom, pants around ankles and Amy’s shirt somewhere around her neck. Bumper was cuffed to the rail in the handicap stall, which in no way interfered with his thrusting, somehow in time with the muffled music of the bar.

He buried himself in her tits, covering her in what she knew from experience would be hickies the next morning. She could feel the tension welling up in her, and she hummed along in time.

When she came, she hit that high note, not caring who heard.


End file.
